White Forest
by B. Kilroy
Summary: A series of roughly related, out of order, standalone stories taking place after Episode 2, centered around the last remaining branch of Black Mesa - White Forest. Chapter Two: Mirror - Returning to White Forest, Gordon wants to do nothing but take a hot shower and relax. Still, his demons manage to make him wonder if he can manage to put everything behind him.
1. After

White Forest

A/N: Hello, and welcome to the first story of hopefully many more to come revolving about the post-Episode 2 universe. These stories will exist within one universe that may not necessarily be canon, and may not be necessarily in chronological order. These stories may also reference previous or future works of mine. I may also use this series as a framing device for stories before HL2:EP2 that I want to explore. Anything outside reasonable bounds will be noted as such. If things get too out of control, I may shuffle in a time-line to keep things in perspective. The force behind this series will definitely evolve as time goes on, and so the writing may differ from now to the future. Some writings will be expanded from or inspired by a few general paragraphs in previous stories. In addition, some of the first content released for this project may be spliced in and out from drafts or abandoned pieces I have worked on.

We will explore many themes, many characters, and perhaps many locations. For now, let us explore the man that is Gordon Freeman. He's played a pivotal role in the world ever since he stepped off that train in City 17, but he has been lost in time for twenty years. He's adjusted well so far, but the question nagged at him for days on end. After finally taking out the Borealis, he decides it's time to find out.

Chapter One: After

* * *

It's been twenty years since the Resonance Cascade ripped apart this world, and three months since Gordon Freeman returned to put it together again. The Citadel has been destroyed, the Combine super-portal closed, and the technology aboard the Borealis had been wiped off the face of the Earth. The Universal Union was left with no way to assist the Overwatch forces, and so abandoned them to be picked off in a worldwide military sweep. Pockets of Resistance have tentatively reached out to each other to create some sort of loose governing over controlled areas, and to consolidate the cause under one front. This is especially true in what used to be Northeastern Canada, where White Forest has been in contact with the remnant factions of Cities 14, 17 (at least its displaced populace), and 24 to establish boundaries and a sort of written law. Of course, this is a difficult to do when the most qualified people to discuss this are a handful of scientists and Vortigaunts, both of which have no sense of governance.

Gordon Freeman, the "One Free Man," the knight in shining armor (literally) for the Resistance, kept out of it. He was not a person to trifle with such matters. He was very much jaded; the government never seemed to do good for him. Black Mesa and the HECU, the Universal Union and the Overwatch... but now it was just the Resistance left with no one to resist. The ground forces stagnated and settled. While war had kept the human race on their toes for two decades, they finally found the opportunity to plant their feet in the dirt and take a seat. Gordon seemed to enjoy this kind of peace. There was still a military hierarchy, of course, but there was no stranglehold on the people – no restrictions by law or threats of injury or death. For the first time in twenty years, there was observable peace. Everyone knew their place and stayed there, and there was really not much more thought put into it. It was pretty much perfect (for now, at least).

Gordon spent his time with his studies and work (and hobbies on break days). Twenty years of scientific papers were written as Gordon was held in stasis by his "employer," so he made it his duty to read and review them all, playing catch-up with the rest of the world. Published papers devolved to writings in notebooks, and some were hastily scribbled on scraps of paper. He almost took it upon himself to start re-writing them, but decided he could waste his time doing something better. Combine technology and Xen crystals and all this newfangled material rapidly advanced the science world by a hundred years, leaving Freeman struggling with more advanced teleportation theory, huge consoles covered in a mix of English, Cyrillic, and alien alphabets, and knowledge that always eluded his firm grasp.

This isn't to say Gordon wasn't a welcome contribution to the scientific team. He was a far step above most personnel, with an MIT education and a PhD in theoretical physics. It went without saying that he was gutsy, willing to do anything short of causing harm to himself or others (but he wasn't always able to protect everyone in the line of duty). Gordon practically allowed himself to become a guinea pig for the team, until either Barney or Alyx stepped in on his behalf when things got a bit too extreme.

Gordon was, for the most part, well-adjusted. The initial shock wore off from when he first stepped out of that train in City 17, but always had questions build up in the back of his mind. He knew that this all had to do with the Resonance Cascade and what happened at Black Mesa, but never got the full picture. Everything was happening so fast and people had no time to sit him down for a history lesson. He was pushed through the City, through the Canals, through Ravenholm, going on and on and on... Gordon rushed with Alyx to escape the collapsing Citadel and get to White Forest, and then the Advisors attacked and killed Eli. Almost immediately the Resistance were sent out to destroy the Borealis.

* * *

Gordon found himself alone with Barney and Alyx in the cockpit of a Mil-Mi8, flying away from the mushroom cloud that consumed the Borealis and its secrets. He was seated in the back, Barney and Alyx both co-piloting. The cargo hold was essentially full of junk; nothing important on board in case retreating Overwatch groups wanted to take down the chopper. A lot of vehicles, supplies, and weapons were destroyed, and a lot of people lost their lives in the fight to secure the ship's destruction. And this was by no means the end. Combine strongholds that riddled the wilderness were no longer supported by their home world, and must be eradicated.

Barney and Alyx both knew a lot of the soldiers that died, but Gordon was still unfamiliar with many people. He was a stranger to this world, but to many people he was their closest ally. He struggled with this fact, with this image of Gordon Freeman popping in out of thin air to save the world. While he had done his fair share of heroic acts, the real movers and shakers were the Resistance soldiers who rallied together against the tyranny of the Universal Union. It wasn't Gordon who saved them all, it was Eli, Magnusson, Barney, Alyx. He was a catalyst, but the reaction would have occurred all the same.

Well, he _did _take down Nova Prospekt. He _did _destroy the Citadel's Dark Energy Reactor and initiate its destruction. He _did _help civilians and Resistance members escape City 17. He _did _kill the Striders threatening to destroy the White Forest compound. Could he have simply been in the right place at the right time? Yes. Could someone else had taken his place? Sure.

But why did all of this have to happen in the first place? The ever-present question once again wormed its way into his mind.

Gordon shivered in the uncomfortably cold helicopter. The heating wasn't working (how typical), and his HEV suit had been left back at White Forest. It wasn't built to heat its user; its insulation would have been fruitless as the metal pulled in cold temperatures. He was left in what was a typical uniform for the soldiers: boots, jeans, a dark green jacket, and a beanie, and a patch on his right arm covered with the lambda symbol (as well as accompanying amenities such as a bulletproof tactical vest and extra layers to combat the weather). At least he wasn't different on the outside. Might earn him some camouflage back at the base.

Barney and Alyx hadn't said anything since they started heading back to White Forest, except to communicate back to the base that the remaining forces were returning. It didn't surprise Gordon, giving the circumstances. Barney was sobered by recent events, having barely arrived at the base with his people before the rebels left for the Borealis. He had no break ever since the Uprising, and really neither did Alyx, especially since the Advisor killed her father. Eli's death was hard on everyone, but especially her. It took a lot of effort to keep her going; Kleiner even secretly kept her on suicide watch.

Maybe now wasn't the best time to open old wounds.

* * *

The chopper landed a number of miles outside of White Forest Base. They were running out of fuel, but wouldn't have been able to continue on since the sun had set and the base goes on blackout and lock-down every night to have some sort of security at night. They didn't dare proceed on foot in case there was Overwatch camps between them and the base.

For now, they settled into a small clearing. The first thing they did was get a fire started. Winter was approaching (or so Gordon was able to assume), and they had absolutely frozen inside the helicopter. The weather outside was not much more forgiving – the vegetation underfoot crunched with each step. Without a heat source they could easily make the same sound as their muscles and joints freeze up.

A small bundle of sticks was quickly gathered and set alight with a flare gun Gordon had found on the Borealis. He and Barney quickly stockpiled more limbs to keep the fire going through the night while Alyx communicated their safety to White Forest and heated through some rations. They were almost comically meager – a supply truck carrying most of the rations had been taken out early into the Resistance's advancement towards the Borealis. If they were lucky, a headcrab might pop out and give them some meat to work with.

As the trio tucked in for "dinner," they seemed to unwind a little bit from their journey. It was the homestretch, and everything they needed to do had been done. There was no catharsis or camaraderie, but they seemed more at ease. At least, Alyx and Barney were. The more time Gordon was allowed to simmer and think, the more the question kept nagging at him. He didn't care anymore, he had to ask.

"Barney-" Gordon got out before he started coughing. He hadn't spoke since Black Mesa when a barnacle nearly ripped his throat out with its tentacle. His words were like sandpaper to his larynx. They were gravel to his ears. Barney didn't seem startled at all, simply believing his friend had been on a conversational dry spell. Alyx had never heard him speak before and was afraid he was about to keel over and die.

A few words of encouragement from Barney were drowned out by Gordon's unhealthy cough. He continued coughing for a moment until he spat out a loose bit of flesh. "Jesus, Gordon, did something crawl down your throat and die there?" The scientist gave a slight huff at the question and downed a few gulps of water. He felt some more stringy bits lower in his throat that he'd have to work out eventually.

For a second time, he started. "Barney," Gordon got out in a raspy voice. Alyx still gawked at him as if he were about to produce some sort of revelation. He dismissed most of her concerns with a wave of his hand. "Tell me what happened... after Black Mesa was destroyed." Gordon finished with a low rumble in his throat, and spat out more of the loose bits in his throat onto the ground.

"Well, bud, I think you're gonna have to wait for the book!" Barney chuckled a bit at his own joke in spite of recent events. "That's twenty years of history that I'm not exactly qualified to recite. Plus, you were here for all of that."

"No, I wasn't," Gordon stated.

"Now what the hell do you mean you weren't here for that?" Barney turned towards his old friend with an incredulous look on his face. "I mean, you weren't in City 17 up until maybe a month ago but you had to be-"

"I literally have not been on this planet for twenty years." His companions' jaws dropped. They both tried to sputter out some sort of refuting statement but Gordon continued in his hoarse voice. "I caused the Resonance Cascade, I set off the rocket to counter it, I killed the Nihilanth, and then..." He paused.

Gordon's "employer" came to mind. He hesitated to mention this being. While Eli was aware of his existence, Gordon remained unsure if it was safe to reveal him or his role in the events. What was his ulterior motive? What was his goal that he needed Gordon to help accomplish? What would come of him? He swallowed these questions as a lump formed in his throat. Now wasn't the time to worry. And now wasn't the time for a tell-all.

"And then I got off the train into City 17." He observed Alyx and Barney's reaction. Both of them questioned it to themselves, not entirely dismissing it, but still deciding to refute it.

"Now Gordon, you mean to tell me you just fell of the face of the earth?"

"Yes."

"Bullshit," Barney concluded. "I've seen and heard plenty things but that's the biggest load of-"

Gordon impatiently cut him off. "Do I not look the same?" he asked in an angry tone. "Do I not still look 27 years old? I sure as hell wasn't seven in 2009." Seeing as Barney remained non-plussed, and Alyx still seemed skeptic, he continued.

"Two months ago, I got a raise after I finally had a year of work under my belt. Three months before that I babysat you," pointing a finger at Alyx, "when Eli was on an Ivy League school guest lecture tour." He looked down as he saw Alyx's eyes glisten. Her father's death was still raw on her mind, and Gordon dared to use both her and her father to make a point. If he could kick himself, he would. Gordon allowed himself a rest as his throat acted up again. Resisting the urge to cough, he downed more water.

"Here I am and it's about 2030. One of my best friends is now 45, and the little girl I used to know is 25. I have nothing to show of the last twenty years. No memory, no recollection, no physical aging, it's like I stepped right out of Black Mesa into… some bad science-fiction film." Gordon grasped his hands as all these repressed feelings, worries, and concerns re-surfaced. He rumbled in his throat to subdue the need to cough. "I've waged war on an enemy I hardly know, with people I hardly know. I've seen too many people die, I've killed so much, I've bled for this cause and I don't know why any of this is happening except for what I did at Black Mesa. I know the Combine are bad, I know we had to defeat them, destroy the Citadel, and destroy the Borealis. I just... I need to know _why._" He looked up and Alyx and Barney.

"What happened after Black Mesa blew up, and what's been happening?" he asked with finality. Gordon wanted, needed, _deserved_an answer. It was practically a demand. He had done so much and he had no idea why. It seemed as though he had been obligated to do everything. Gordon remembered back when he was escaping the City, Alyx announced that 'Gordon Freeman has returned.' What had people been expecting of him? Why did they expect so much of him? He held these questions back; Gordon would consider himself lucky if he could find the answer to the one already on the table.

Barney considered it for a minute, giving Gordon a good look over. He couldn't deny that Gordon appeared impeccably young. He couldn't deny his friend had seemed so out of place all this time. It was impossible and outright disrespectful to imply Gordon had barely even skimmed the surface of the war. Gordon Freeman had been the reagent, the most significant cause of the Uprising. He was the reason they had come so far in so little time. If Gordon was telling the truth, who was he to deny him an answer?

Barney's face softened as he glanced up at the night sky. A very dull orange band lipped around the horizon. "Well, I guess it's not long after six... I hope you're all settled in, 'cause this is a hell of a nighttime story. Still think you should wait for the book."

Gordon bowed his head in thanks.

"Well let's see... after the Resonance Cascade, after Black Mesa was nuked, we discovered that the satellite failed to do it's job. It probably made things worse, actually. Everything that we saw in Black Mesa kept on coming in and just randomly teleported anywhere in the world, so there was no real safe place. You saw how HECU and the Black Ops team couldn't handle it, right? Well, army regulars barely did any better. The saving grace was that everything except the headcrabs managed to die off, probably from the different atmospheric make-up or whatever. So after we got roughed up, the Combine came in and sucker punched us."

"I don't want bullet points," Gordon grumbled.

"Oh okay fine, ya big baby."

* * *

"And then I saw you come in through processing about to board that train to Nova Prospekt." It was late into the night when Barney finished reciting the history of the past twenty years., either at or just past midnight. The three had ended up bundled closely together in the chopper's open cargo hold with the fire up close to the entrance as a deep static chill settled into the clearing. Gordon was nestled between Alyx and Barney, all bundled under layers of blankets and fabric, silently taking in everything that the two had told him throughout the course of the last six hours.

He had no real reaction to the information. He simply took it in and accepted it as fact. The more Gordon learned, the more he was able to piece everything together, how the world had managed to get as messed up as it did. If there's a stroke of luck Gordon got out of his stasis, it was that he didn't have to experience the hell that consumed Earth. He sighed as the history lesson ended. Solace wasn't quite the word. Consolation? No... closure was what Gordon got. He finally had the full story, and could finally act on this knowledge in the future.

"Thank you both for filling me in. I know it took a long time to tell, but I just-"

"Don't worry about it, Gordon," Alyx spoke up. "You deserve this knowledge if you truly weren't here for all of it. Especially since you've done so much for us." She shivered as a cold breeze shot into the helicopter. "Hopefully there isn't much more to do."

"Not much," Barney reckoned. "Sweep the countryside for any pockets of Overwatch, set up a real good defensive perimeter around White Forest, maybe even work our way into a rural town and set up a settlement. Might get real close to a normal existence soon." He yawned, accepting the fact he needed a good rest. "I guess I'll turn in. My old bones are aching, I'll leave the rest of the night to you young folk." Barney offered Gordon a playful elbow, who returned one that wasn't so playful. The pepper-haired man chuckled and got up from the bundle of fabric to stoke the fire and add more wood to it before disappearing behind a stacked wall of boxes in the cargo hold.

Gordon and Alyx sat "alone" in the chopper. The night was no longer young but neither of them seemed to want to sleep. At the same time, they didn't know what to do or what to say.

"How do you feel now?" Alyx finally asked of the scientist.

"Better." He paused. "You?"

"Better," she returned.

"I'm sorry for what I said," Gordon paused again. "I didn't mean to use Eli to get a point across."

"It's okay, Gordon. I know you meant no harm. Dad would have wanted you to know," Alyx offered a few words of easement. Gordon thought back to when he met with Eli in White Forest, when they were alone and began to mention their 'mutual friend.' Eli would have been the person with the most knowledge of what happened to Gordon after Black Mesa, especially if he was indebted to Gordon's 'employer' after he saved Alyx from the complex. He had no doubt Eli's debt was paid now. His thoughts wandered to his own fate with his employer, but Gordon cut himself off soon enough – he didn't want to have to contemplate his own fate just yet.

They could both tell that the other wanted to talk more, but didn't know what to say. Silence fell between them again. For a while, they just enjoyed the company of each other, and the peace they were finally able to observe. For the longest time, they were only together in stress and in combat, but now it seemed as though everything right now was okay, and they took that. They sat together in the chopper, watching the fire dance with itself and the shadows play off the trees.

Gordon looked towards Alyx, who he found to be seemingly lost in thought. Her gaze was far off, probably settled somewhere in the treeline. He let her be. She needed the most time to decompress, to meditate, and to just stop and breathe. Alyx was one of the people worst off in this world that he knew. Eli was dead, and so were countless other friends, acquaintances, compatriots, contemporaries. She grew up in this world of shit, and Gordon had only stepped through the threshold.

He felt her pain, though. Ever since the Vortigaunts bound their life forces together to save Alyx, Gordon had felt some odd dull warmth inside of him. This warmth projected emotions, feelings, even pain through him – it wasn't hard to put two and two together. The connection between them was strongest when they were ambushed by the Advisors and saw Eli get killed. The unadulterated grief, sadness, and anger poured into his soul and almost drowned him out of his own mind.

Gordon, with his very basic understanding of Vortigaunts and the "vortal coil", figured the connection worked both ways. God forbid she felt even half the amount of pain he put himself through when the Combine attacked White Forest and when they went to the Borealis. Probably thought she was having a heart attack out of all the stress. He frowned to himself, realizing that neither he nor the Vortigaunts told her that their life forces were essentially inter-weaved.

He thought about telling her, but decided tonight was enough. This week, this whole thing was enough for now. He would wait to tell her. Maybe something would happen that would make it necessary to tell her, maybe Alyx would figure it out on her own, but tonight wasn't the right time to talk about some sort of soul-binding moment. There was probably enough on her mind that she didn't need something else to bounce around in her skull. He gave a bit of a sigh through his nose, and continued to gaze out into the fire and the dark with her. _I wonder what feeling she's getting from me,_ Gordon thought to himself, but contemplated no more.

"I think it's time to sleep," Alyx quietly suggested after some time. In agreement, Gordon stood from his place and stepped out of the chopper, carefully skirting the fire. He paced around the perimeter with an MP5, peering into the woods behind his thick glasses. It was the middle of the night – almost prime for some sort of ambush. The three of them were alone, and the rebel forces were dispersed on their own all around them. It would be hard to muster a defense force on the spot. Then again, they just blew up the Borealis, which contained whatever the Combine were after. If that's gone and they have nowhere to go, they're probably routing their forces somewhere to either fend for themselves or else. A midnight attack by the Combine, Gordon believed, would be highly unlikely.

After traveling once around the clearing, Gordon decided it was safe. He returned to the Mil-Mi8 and closed the cargo door. Gordon mumbled something about keeping the fire alight to make sure the fuel lines didn't freeze. He stood for a moment in the dull fading red light, observing the relatively open area they had. Despite the space they had, he decided to return to his spot next to Alyx, who didn't appear to mind.

Taking off his knit hat and glasses, Gordon scooted away from the wall until he could lay comfortably. Eyes closed and mind already drifting away, he felt as Alyx did the same. "Gordon?" he heard her ask in a low voice. A soft sound was his response. After a pause, he heard her whisper, "Good night."

"Good night." Gordon shifted onto his side, curling into himself as he allowed sleep to wash over him. As he slipped from the waking world, he felt a warm pressure push gently and settle against his back. _Alyx. _Gordon smiled to himself, and fell asleep.

* * *

_Endnote: Had a hard time deciding the content of this chapter and how to summarize it - the story is all over the place to be an intro to the series and also to serve itself. No doubt that I made false claims that say Gordon actually finds out what happened after Black Mesa. Well, he does - but the reader doesn't. Anyways, I hope this was an enjoyable first story segment, and I hope that the next one can keep up expectations. Hopefully it'll come out soon._


	2. Mirror

White Forest

Mirror

Sometime before noon, Gordon, Barney, and Alyx finally made it back to White Forest with the rest of the remaining Resistance forces, having successfully destroyed the Borealis and sent the Combine on a universal rout. There was a mix of grief, happiness, anger, and disbelief as the human race won its first fight in the longest time, and it wouldn't be the last. For now, everyone returned to the base, and prepared for... well, whatever they were going to do. Of course, a celebration was due for their victory, but what of all those they had lost in the past days? What of Eli? They were all due their respects for making the ultimate sacrifice.

Of course, through some half-witted effort, a group of young men managed to overcome the mood and rouse most people into a celebratory state. A chorus of cheers, whoops, and hollers echoed over the Forest and through the base, and everyone was glad that the tides had turned. They had won, and they weren't hard-pressed to continue a military campaign just yet. A few people particularly hit hard by the push to the Borealis were tempted to quell the excitement, but decided to let it be. God knows they needed all the morale they could get.

Gordon counted his lucky stars as, without his traffic-cone orange HEV suit to stand out against the standard blue and green, he blended right in to the survivors (just as he had hoped). People concerned themselves more with Alyx Vance and Barney Calhoun, ignoring who appeared to just be another bearded, grizzled man who at this point was actively shoving his way through the crowd. Alyx and Barney quickly lost sight of him, but paid no real mind, as they were more distracted by their own emotions conflicting with those of the crowd. Alyx soon found herself pushing out and away, trying to make her way to her room, while Barney let himself get caught up in the celebration.

Gordon managed to make his way to what used to be an officer's bathroom, near where he, Alyx, and Kleiner had found themselves sleeping. Closing the door behind him, he tossed off his hat and quickly disrobed, throwing the clothes into a pile. He set his glasses down on the sink, and stepped into the shower. Gordon turned the single knob on the shower wall from off, through cold to practically scalding hot, and for a while just stood there. He soaked in the heat, the water, the solitude. He didn't think about anything – his mind was clear. It was almost a meditative state that he found himself in.

It could have been minutes or hours passed when Gordon finally became lucid again. The water had ran itself lukewarm, or at least that's how it felt on him. No doubt he'd find out if people were complaining about its temperature. He turned off the water, and opened the shower compartment – immediately greeted with a cold blast of air. Gordon shivered, forgetting completely that it was winter and concrete wasn't the best insulator. He grabbed around blindly for a towel, having his bad eyesight doubly impaired by the steam. After a moment he found one – at least, it was something fluffy and towel-like, and quickly dried himself off.

Gordon put on his boxers, and a pair of shorts he had been wearing under his pants as an extra layer, and made his way back to the sink. He put on his glasses and wiped away the fog on the mirror, giving Gordon a good look at himself. For a second, he thought that he was looking through a piece of glass at another man, but found that it was him in the mirror. It was _his_ bags under those eyes, his glazed over look, his wild scruffy beard, and his scars that were shown to him. He shivered as he realized that he had aged since the Black Mesa incident, but it was all within that single month of being here, the fighting and traveling and death and destruction whittled him down to this shell of his former self. Gordon thought to himself that he might as well have been 40-something.

Deciding that he could at least do one thing now to look better, Gordon gently tugged at the right side of the mirror, and popped open the small cabinet placed in behind it. Out of some sheer luck, he found some shaving cream and a straight razor – of _course _it was. There was a brush for the cream that he also took out. He sighed as the world set one final obstacle before him, having never used a straight razor. At least the cream was easy enough for a child to use. He turned on the tap and allowed some water to mix with the thick cream, stirring with the brush to get the right consistency.

Content with the mix, he looked back up at the mirror to begin applying the cream, but found it had fogged up again. With a sigh, he wiped at it again, and was greeted with the sight of his employer in his place. "Ah… Mr. Freeman. I see you made it back in… one piece… mm?" Gordon's hands froze in place on the sink as he stared back at the humanoid taking on the form of one of those G-men he'd always seen around Black Mesa. His grip tightened around the porcelain, angry at the being in the mirror. "You did an… exceptional job at the Borealis, Mr. Freeman. Top marks along the… board, as some would say," he remarked with a grin creeping across his face.

"We are done," Gordon replied defiantly. "I want out."

"Oh… but we've just begun," the man in the mirror told him, prepared to push his agenda further onto the One Free Man.

"Eli is dead. The Borealis is gone. Look at me." Gordon shook with anger. "LOOK AT ME!" He was run ragged by it all. The killing, the death, the destruction. His life was no longer his – it was a tool for this… _thing _to fulfill its goals. Gordon was hardly normal. No one seemed to be anymore, but it was extremely hard for him. This wasn't his time, this wasn't what he was supposed to do, this wasn't right at all. It was time for him to make sure he could keep from going any further down the road that man had set before him. "I will do nothing else for you. I've done too much for you and you've done too little for me."

"Oh, have I?" The G-man in the mirror seemed to chuckle at Gordon's suggestion. "What of… Miss Vance?"

"She has no debt with you. Nothing of this has to do with you."

"Mr. Freeman, I don't think you have a grasp on your situation. Everything you have… is only yours because I allow it."

"LIAR!" Gordon shouted again into the mirror, livid as the G-man continued. "If you're in control, then how did the vortigaunts stop you at the Citadel? Huh?!" He rallied within himself against his employer. "Are you even top of the food chain in your world? I bet your superiors would _love _to hear about all of this – about your meddling in this whole mess. Don't think that I can't find a way. That I won't."

Gordon smiled to himself, thinking back to those times where he wormed his way to the head of Human Resources and various superiors when something was going down the wrong way. He had no doubt he'd be able to do the same with the G-man. "I know what you're capable of. You know what I'm capable of. You know what the vortigaunts are capable of. Don't think that this situation of ours doesn't go both ways. Don't think you're the only one with power."

The G-man looked at him with disgust, chilling him to the bone with his icy stare. Gordon could tell he struck a chord in the humanoid being, hopefully doing enough to keep him at bay. He still stood firm at the sink, staring back with the same intensity. The room was silent – almost completely void of sound. Gordon's ears began to ring, until the G-man spoke again.

"This will not be… the last you see of me, Mr. Freeman," he growled before disappearing from the mirror, leaving Gordon to face himself again.

Feeling the energy sucked from his body, he collapsed to the tile floor. Gordon's breath was ragged and his throat burned like he had just ran a marathon. Clambering onto all fours, he still shook in the cold. He fell down again to one side and laid there, hoping that for now he would remain out of the G-man's reach, and so would everyone else.

The door to the bathroom opened slowly to Gordon's near-horror. After his encounter with his 'employer' had drained him, he knew he couldn't put up a fight if it were life or death. Though he had braced himself for some kind of attack, he relaxed as he saw Barney's peppered head peak through the crack of the opening. "Holy shit, Gordon!" he yelped before rushing in to help. Barney got Gordon to sit up, and couldn't help but notice the scars and pockmarks that riddled his friend's body.

"C'mon, Gordon, you're not gonna leave us yet, are ya?" Barney asked, afraid that Gordon may have completely given out after so much strain. From Black Mesa to City 17, through Ravenholm and the Coast, from the Citadel to White Forest, he had done so much, and from the looks of his body, it seemed like it wanted to rest for the longest time.

Gordon shook his head. "No," he grunted while rubbing his throat. He thought back to being strangled by the barnacle in Black Mesa, shivering as the feeling seemed to call back in time to the event. He continued to massage it, hoping it was nothing but coincidence. Unsure if he could stand, he stayed there on the floor with Barney, getting wrapped up in a thick wool blanket. It wasn't long before Alyx appeared in the door way, as shocked as Barney.

"Oh my God, Gordon, you look like you've seen a ghost."

He let out a silent chuckle. _I saw two._


	3. Radio

White Forest  
The Radio

A/N: Wow! I actually posted a second chapter. I'm sorry it took so long, if you were waiting for it. It was mostly done for many months, but there were many times where I forgot where I wanted the story to go and how I wanted the chapter to end. A few of these seem to have been in the works for  
MONTHS, but this chapter is not one of them. (EDIT: Oh god the formatting I'm sorry oh man o jeez)

* * *

Gordon used to love listening to the radio. His youth, his MIT tenure, and Black Mesa employment were all different periods that brought music to him, and he always kept a place for music in his heart. Unfortunately, he didn't hear much in the style of music after the Resonance Cascade. Anything on the radio was replaced with military short-wave directing their movements, and Resistance movements tending to their own. The music was replaced with squawking Combine radio, gunfire, and the sound of death and destruction.

Settling down at White Forest brought emsome /emmusic back into his life. A few CD players were scattered throughout the compound, and a handful of Resistance members found some instruments (even though they weren't exactly the best performers). It wore on him, especially once he had heard The Best of Pink Floyd for the tenth time through. The limited selection wasn't good enough for him, but if it worked for others, he wouldn't argue to break the damn CD in half. For now, he accepted that music would remain absent, if not present in some small form. It didn't bother him much; it was a distraction from his studies.

Still, he remained nostalgic, perhaps him most of all out of everyone. He was ripped away from his world, his emtime, /emfor years and came back to see his world in a completely different state. Gordon had no bed, no office, and much of his daily ritual and interactions were gone to the past. Music was the only thing that tied him back to that time, and he missed it. He missed the dad rock, the classical, the electronic, the hip hop. Whatever music they had in the White Forest compound had whittled away at him, and he ignored it. Occasionally, a scavenger group would find a CD or cassette tape, but it's never something interesting. With a grumble, he figured it was a lost cause.

A few months after Gordon seemed to give up music, he ended up doing grunt work with some other guys to clear out a storage room – the time had come for a better use of the place. Shuffling around the crates and boxes, he found something tucked away in a corner. It was small, rectangular, and plastic, with an antenna and a couple of knobs. Wire mesh covered a speaker embedded in the device. A smile washed over Gordon's face. He had found a radio.

He smuggled it to his room easily enough, setting it down on his work desk. After a moment, Gordon decided to plug it in. Why should he? It's been years since this thing had been used – and even if it worked, there wouldn't be anything on! Maybe some radio chatter on scattered frequencies, but honestly, if he expected to find anything else he was a mad man. emAnd maybe I am,/em he thought to himself, sitting down at his desk. Flipping a switch on top of the radio, it crackled to life, offering nothing but static. Still humoring himself, he fiddled with the tuning knob, exploring the frequencies.

And out of the static of the radio, Gordon heard something. He slowly tuned back to the frequency in shock, finding it hard to believe that he had found something. Continuing to listen to the broadcast, shivers went down his spine as he recognized the sounds. The blaring trumpet repeated its five notes, cutting out to some tune from a music box that withered and died. It was an old and decrepit sound, reminding him of the numbers stations that he had heard a branch of Black Mesa try to decode, and those he heard in his spare time from the internet.

It had no business being on the radio. None, none, none at all, there was no reason for it to be playing. He knew it shouldn't be, because he had heard it in City 17, when the Resistance was moving full force against Breen and the Citadel. Somewhere in those burnt out, collapsed apartment buildings, it was playing on a television, and on that television was the G-man. And here he was, listening to it after the city had been destroyed, and his employer seemingly gone from his life. And here it was, playing on the radio for him to hear. Gordon turned the radio off with a shaky hand. It was enough.

He took the radio with him as he left the compound, coming along the bank of the river he had gone through to get into White Forest for the first time. The river was now deep and flowing with fresh water, no longer a dribbling stream. Without hesitation, he chucked the radio into the water and turned away, heading back into the dormitories before it got dark. Maybe The Best of Pink Floyd could go for another play-through.


End file.
